


The Kick Won't Last For Long

by orphan_account



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, honestly this is more friendship-y than relationship-y
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6884206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The party was loud, it was the only word that Matty could use to describe it. The heavy bass of the music thrummed throughout every room in the house, pulsating and vibrating the walls and rattling his very innards and bones. The stench of hundreds of bodies pressed against each other, grinding and undulating to the electronic beat, was a pungent one, the sweat mixing in with the sharp aroma of alcohol and something much more repulsive, acrid and acidic. The party was chaotic and it was absolutely perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kick Won't Last For Long

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in this fandom so if I do make some sort of ridiculous error then it would be greatly appreciated if you guys could point it out

The party was _loud_ , it was the only word that Matty could use to describe it. The heavy bass of the music thrummed throughout every room in the house, pulsating and vibrating the walls and rattling his very innards and bones. The stench of hundreds of bodies pressed against each other, grinding and undulating to the electronic beat, was a pungent one, the sweat mixing in with the sharp aroma of alcohol and something much more repulsive, acrid and acidic. The party was chaotic and it was absolutely perfect.

In the sea full of drunken people, no one knew who he was. They were there to have a good time, to forget about their troubles, to be someone else for the night. When the only thing that mattered was the beat of the music, it was easy to forget who you were, even if it was only for a short period of time. Everyone else there was like him, fucked up and desperate and it was exactly what he needed. To be someone else, even if it was only for one night, was an adrenaline rush that was better than any illegal high he could get hold of.

The snowflakes he had taken previously were still taking effect over his body, making him floaty yet so so heavy, languid and relaxed yet completely aware of every single sound and movement and scent, of the lightest touch and the heaviest push. Every sense was heightened tenfold, each sensation and feeling a riveting adventure of ecstasy and pain. He loved and hated it, his best friend and his worst enemy. He could never let it go even if he wanted to.

A pretty blonde girl dressed in her skimpiest outfit along with a plethora of different makeup products plastered upon her face smiled at him, beckoned him forwards to join her. She pressed into him almost immediately, not paying any attention to his personal space or boundaries. Upon closer inspection he soon realised that she was absolutely wasted, the rancid stench of alcohol tainting her breath and clothes.

She tried to force herself upon him, to push her smeared lipstick covered mouth onto his in an act of obvious sexual frustration. In any other situation he would have immediately kissed back, indulged her desires in a drunken frenzy in the back of a dirty alleyway that he would regret the morning after, but his head was hurting and it was disconcerting so with a reluctant sigh he pulled away.

For the slightest moment, everything seemed to go in slow motion, the music dull white noise in the background as he stood stark still, surveying in a moment of delusional wonder, while every other body pushed around and against him, not caring about anything other than the beat that pulsed through their veins. Hips against crotches pushed and pulled and it was fascinating to him as pretty little lights danced before his eyes. It was like a psychedelic dream world where up was down and day was night; where everything was okay and the flashes of colour were a guide to his way home.

And then all of a sudden things sped up again and he was back in reality and his head was spinning and the lights didn't look so pretty and inviting anymore. It felt like everything was crashing around him as the world lurched back and forth, as his head felt like it was going to explode. The atmosphere that was once so appealing quickly grew cloying and unpleasant and he felt the impending need to get out.

He attempted to push through the never ending crowd with little success. Hands grabbed his hips, pulled him flush against another's, grinding and rubbing their bodies together in an attempt to get him to join the others in their escape from reality. There were too many people around him and he couldn't breathe. His heart was racing and his head was hurting and he could feel bile rising in his throat and he needed to get out he needed to get out he _needed_ to get out.

_He needed to get out._

His head was swimming and his body grew heavy and even after the stranger let go after realising that he wasn't joining in, he felt like hands were grabbing at him everywhere and they wouldn't let go. It was overwhelming, this heavy feeling that made him want to go to sleep, to forget everything. It was a welcome feeling compared to the sensations he was experiencing right then. He let it take over him, take over his body as he slipped into the sleepy state.

_The snowflakes aren't so nice anymore_ he thought to himself as it finally took him under.

-

He woke up in hospital two weeks later. Cocaine overdose: he survived within an inch of his life. If it wasn't for an anonymous person who called an ambulance when they noticed that he had fallen unconscious, he would most likely have died right there and then in the middle of the dance floor. He was lucky that he didn't have a heart attack they said.

He fell into a coma in which he had no memory of, the last thing he remembered being him inhaling a final line before leaving his apartment to go to a stranger's party after having an argument. _The argument_. It was a completely stupid decision in hindsight but at the time it seemed like the solution to all his problems.

One by one, his family members and friends came to visit, all looking dishevelled with red eyes and worried expressions; he didn't know how to live with the fact that it was him who had caused them to look like that.

His mother had burst into tears the moment she laid eyes on him, begging in-between relieved yet heart broken sobs to never scare her like that again. She hugged him for dear life, not letting go for at least 5 minutes. Matty attempted to hug back in the best way he could; his arms were weak along with the rest of his body so it was difficult to lift them for long period of time. In the end they sort of steadily rocked together in a way that worked for them and in a way, it helped.

It was harder when it came to talking to Louis. His younger brother had always looked up to him as a role model over the years, relied on him for brotherly advice over all sorts of matters and it was a close bond that that they both cherished dearly, so to have lost himself so much that he nearly died damaged his little brother's trust in him quite dramatically, not to mention the fact that becoming a near junkie hardly provided an ideal image of someone that his little brother could one day be. He was failure.

His next visitors after a flood of other distant relatives and therapists who just wanted to put him in rehab were Hann and Ross. Unlike ever other visitor that he had had up to that point, they didn't look at him like they were judging him, like he was someone to be wary of. They looked at him like he was Matty, their best mate who was just going through a rough time and he was so so thankful for them.

They had always known that he had a few problems with addictions, but he never revealed the true extent of how bad it was to them, or to anyone for that matter, choosing to hide his problems until he was alone without anyone to provide any common sense that could stop him from ruining his life.

He could easily chat to them both and pretend that he wasn't lying, frail and weak, twitchy and nervous and desperate for another hit, in an uncomfortable hospital bed with an IV line providing the only thing that could keep him alive protruding from his arm, but then he would be grossly lying to himself and at the end of the day they all knew that Matty wasn't as stable as he was making himself out to be.

Throughout the entire duration of time that he was conscious in the hospital, Matty hadn't cried once, hadn't let any emotion other than apathy show through; not as he watched his mother sob and ask god where she had gone wrong, not as he saw the shame and disappointment in his father's eyes. It was easier than it should have been for him to force a smile and mutter "I'm fine".

After seeing the disappointed faces of his friends and family, Matty wasn't sure whether he was glad he survived or not, especially with the knowledge that there was still one person who had yet to visit, the person whom he was most anxious to see, and he knew exactly why they hadn't. He rather cynically thought to himself that it might have been easier to die than face what he knew was soon coming.

George and him had always been exceptionally close, closer than most best friends usually were. They did everything together, told each other everything, no matter what. It was an unbreakable friendship. George trusted him with everything, they had never lied to each other, not even once, and he had ruined it all in a moment of weakness.

Right before he left for the party, Matty recalled them having an argument. This was an extremely rare occurrence seeming as the two usually got on like a house on fire, but that night, to put it rather bluntly, George had found the drugs stash that Matty had claimed to have gotten rid of months ago and he wasn't happy about it in the slightest. To say he was pissed with his best friend was an understatement.

Matty had only ever seen George angry on a few rare occasions, he was an extremely docile and calm person by nature, so to see the broken look in his eyes that night as he begged Matty to tell him that the stash wasn't what he thought it was, that he hadn't been lying to him for months upon end, was an experience that he never wanted to repeat again.

He had to watch as George got rid of every single one, watch as hundreds of pounds worth of pills and powder were flushed away in an instant, and that was when the arguing started. They had had petty quarrels before over insignificant things there were forgotten about within a day, all friends do, but they all seemed to pale in comparison to the fight that happened that night.

Neither Matty nor George were ones for shouting, they were both more the silent treatment type, so to hear the brash words coming out each other's mouths was a first for both which seemed to only exacerbate the severity of the situation at hand. Matty was pissed at George for trying to control his life, for getting rid of everything he had spent his hard earned money on without even asking and George was exceptionally pissed at Matty for lying to him for months about being clean from his addictions.

Now George obviously had the more logical and reasonable argument, Matty had been blatantly perjuring to him with only slight remorse for an extremely expansive amount of time after all, but in the heat of the moment, blinded by white hot anger at himself and George and his shitty decisions in general, Matty felt the need to defend himself more than he valued his life long friendship with George and it is a decision that at the present day, looking back on the event, Matty regretted deeply.

Neither of the two were exactly thinking straight and simple things were drastically over exaggerated and taken out of proportion. Old matters that had supposedly been sorted were brought back up, bad habits, annoying traits and old arguments, and what began as a fight about Matty's reckless and self destructive lifestyle soon turned into a battle over every stupid thing the other had done.

Matty said, or more so shouted, things he didn't mean, made up complete lies at some points simply to prove a futile point. He fought a losing battle and they both seemed to know it yet neither backed down until it met a messy crescendo when their voices were raw and their throats were sore.

He tried to block out the things that were said as he recollected the incident yet the last cold statement that left George's mouth before he left seemed to be ingrained onto his brain, constantly playing in his head over and over and over like a broken record, reminding him of how awful a friend he was.

" _If you really cared about me like you say do, then you would have stopped the drugs after the first time like you promised. Obviously you aren't the friend I thought you were."_

For a while afterwards Matty stood stunned into silence, not entirely sure how to take in the events that had happened. He considered doing several things in order to forget about the incident, but there was one that overrode all the others, that always would no matter what.

George may have gotten rid of the drugs that he found right there and then, but little did he know that Matty still had a baggie hidden away separate to the others in case of emergencies. It was only a small amount but it was still enough to cause the damage that left him stuck in his hospital bed, broken and desperate and feeling more pathetic than he had ever felt before.

_"Obviously you aren't the friend I thought you were."_ Over and over and over.

-

Quite honestly Matty never expected George to show up to the hospital at all, believing that he had finally pissed him off enough that he decided that he was done being his friend for good. Matty wouldn't blame him if he did, he had been an utter prick the past few months and the argument was just the icing on the cake, it wasn't like he didn't deserve it, so when he woke up one evening to see the familiar tall figure that could only be George, his best friend (though at that point in time the status was fragile), sitting in one of the battered chairs by his bed with his head in his hands, he was surprised to say the least.  

All he could do was stare for a moment, look at the man that he genuinely thought he might never see again with relief yet also fear; things were most certainly not settled between them and he was sure that there was another fight yet to come.

He couldn't help but study George's tired features: his already unruly hair was in disarray around his head, each strand sticking up in an different direction and there were extremely prominent dark circles surrounding his almost empty eyes. His usually calm and collected demeanour was replaced by the shell of a man he once was and it was Matty's fault. He truly was a bad friend.

He felt guilty; his previous anger at George had ebbed away and in it's place was the shattering realisation of what he had done, of how badly he had fucked up. He had damaged their friendship to near critical levels and he wasn't sure whether it was repairable or not.

"I-George...hey" Matty eventually managed to rather pathetically stutter out as he attempted without much success to sit up in his bed, making his consciousness known to the younger. He had run the scenario through his head so many times, coming up with every possible thing he could say to him, with reactions ranging from relief and happiness to sadness and anger (the latter seeming the most likely considering the circumstances), yet as George sat there before him in the flesh, every single line he practiced out for hours upon end left him within an instant.

George lifted his head with a start, a surprised look upon his face like a deer in the headlights, obviously too deep in his thoughts to notice Matty rouse from his fitful slumber. Maybe he wasn't expecting Matty to wake up, it was some ridiculous hour late at night after all (Matty was surprised that the hospital allowed him to to stay that late quite honestly), perhaps he never wanted to be caught there in the first place. Matty might never know.

The air around them quickly became thick and heavy, the tension between them almost tangible. Now that they had both acknowledged each other's presence's the atmosphere had grown distinctly more hostile in a way that Matty didn't like in the slightest.

George's previously slumped posture had turned rigid and Matty found himself shrinking back almost. He hated to admit it but he was slightly scared of George when he was like this; something that if you told him would happen a year ago he would laugh at and think was a joke. George had always been a gentle giant, this cold and distant George was one that was unfamiliar to both of them. He missed the playful and laid back George that he used to know.

Their eyes met, George's distant and unreadable and Matty's hopeful yet apprehensive. For a moment the only thing the two seemed to do was stare at each other, neither looking away or even blinking. He had no idea what was going through George's mind, was he annoyed? Relieved? Thinking of killing Matty in cold blood? His empty facial expression and dull eyes gave away nothing.

George's distance unnerved him, made him uncomfortable right down to the bone. It was so dissimilar to his usual personality that Matty might've thought he was a different person all together. It made him antsy, wary, desperate for something to calm him down. Never had he craved a line more in his life. It was the only thing that settled desperate desire that was constantly there, the everlasting itch that sat underneath his skin, that made everything okay even if it was only for a short while. His brain was telling him that it would help yet his heart knew it would only make things worse.

There were so many things he wanted, _needed_ , to say to George, but the familiar nervous twitch that overtook him when he became desperate was starting to become more and more prominent and all he could think about was his need for another hit. He had been cold turkey ever since that night and the overwhelming desire that had been gradually increasing over the past few weeks had grown more and more intense and it quickly grew distracting.

He fidgeted in his place, attempted to push the desperation to the back of his mind. It was always there, niggling away, constantly reminding him of what he really was: a junkie yearning for anything to distract him from reality, but the less he thought about it, the easier it was to pretend that he was a normal, healthy, functioning, non-dependent human being.

Besides, there were matters at hand that were more pressing than his pathetic desires and in order to combat them he needed to actually try for once which was more than he could say for previous attempts at getting clean. It was at the point where he had to stop: even the tiniest amount of cocaine could kill him within an instant. It wasn't a matter of wanting to anymore, it was a matter of _needing_ too.

Matty was well aware that he had been staring for too long, it probably looked quite unnerving from an outside perspective, and one of them was going to have to say something at some point rather than having what seemed to be turning into a rather childish and defiant staring match, so it was with much indignation at having to give in that he broke their gaze to look at an undetermined point on the wall at the other side of the room.

His sense of pride and his tendency to be melodramatic seemed to be overruling his common sense which made it a lot harder for him to apologise than it should have been. He knew that he was lucky enough for George to even be willing to visit in the first place so he wasn't exactly in the position to complain about it, but he sure as hell could make it so much more difficult than it should have been to simply just apologise.

Though the thing was that Matty was sorry, he had never been more contrite in his life, so he wasn't sure whether it was because he was simply a stubborn idiot with far too much pride or because he was too cowardly to admit that he was indeed in the wrong that he felt more inclined to act like a petulant child than face the actual situation at hand. It was a cowardly attitude, but he found it easier to adhere to than facing actual adult responsibilities that he seemed to have ignored over the past few months.

Part of him, a part dominated by his vices and weaknesses that he wished he could crush entirely, wanted to shout at George again, to start yet another argument that would end in more pain and anguish, but he knew it would mess up everything more than it already was which would be saying something considering how spectacularly fucked up the entire situation was. Really he just wanted them to go back to how they were before, but he didn't know if that was possible anymore.

Matty wasn't really sure how much time had elapsed since he first woke up and set eyes upon George for the first time in weeks, but it felt like eons. He knew it was most likely no more than a couple of minutes of silence at most but the tension felt like it would never end and he was beginning to grow tired of it. There was too much that needed to be said but not enough words to convey it.

It was problematic to say the least.

He knew that he was completely to blame and that George had every reason to complain, Matty had been a shitty friend and he knew that if the situation had been reversed then he would have reacted the same, if not worse, as George had. All he had to do was say two simple words in order to apologise for his almighty fuck up but it was a hell of a lot more difficult for him than it should have been.

His emotions were a mess; he wasn't sure whether he was going to explode into anger or burst into tears at any given moment. He had bottled everything he was feeling up until the point where every single thing he felt seemed to merge into one and he wasn't sure when it would become too much and that it would all spill out at once, leaving chaos in its path.

Matty was beginning to get lost in his thoughts and he knew that it was a desperate ploy to avoid the inevitable. He was going to have to face George whether he liked it or not; he could see his rigid body in his peripheral vision, expectant yet seemingly empty. George was practically unreadable to Matty. Matty thought that he knew the younger man inside out but at that point he didn't understand anything and that scared him more than it should have.

He closed his eyes for a moment. _It's now or never_ he thought to himself.

"I think" Matty started out of the middle of nowhere. He could see George's figure tense in the foreground as he stared at the wall opposite. "I think that I have been trying to come up with some sort of justification for my actions as a half arsed attempt at an excuse, but I don't think that lying to you or myself is going to get me anywhere anymore. I learnt that the hard way. We both know that I fucked up rather spectacularly and there are no fancy words that I can use to express how truly sorry I am because of it, so I am just going to put it simply: I'm sorry, George, I am so so fucking sorry."

Matty dared to look in George's direction to gauge his reaction to his rather impromptu speech, but he wasn't even looking at Matty but instead at the sickly hospital green wall behind him with a contemplative look upon his face.

George stayed silent so all Matty could do was sit tense, awkwardly fiddling with his hands as he waited for the other male's response. He couldn't work out what George was feeling, his face was a blank sheet.

"I thought you had died." It was sudden and curt and Matty nearly jumped at the sound of George's low voice after not hearing it for so long. He turned to look at Matty directly in the eye once again but the look was just as clouded as before. Despite what the voice was saying though, Matty was almost relived to hear it. It was comforting and familiar and almost reminded him of what used to be.

"I-I'm sorry?" he replied apprehensively, not entirely sure where George was going with the sudden statement. He immediately felt guilty for creating that kind of pain within the person he cared so much about.

"I don't think _sorry_ cuts it Matty" his tone was filled with malice but it was a look of sorrow that was plastered upon his face and Matty didn't know what to do or say because of it. Everything about George confused him and it was unnerving.

He opened his mouth to reply but was cut off before he could even begin. "I don't think you realise the utter hell I have had to go through for the past few weeks, not knowing if my best friend was going to fucking die or not with the knowledge that it was all my fault. I don't think you really understand how it feels to be lied to for months upon months by the person you trusted _most_ in the world."

And for a moment Matty thought that George was going to start arguing again, that they would never resolve their issues, but then he noticed the lump in his throat and the desperate look in George's eyes and quickly realised that George wasn't angry anymore, no, far from it in fact, he was upset and Matty didn't know how to deal with that.

"When I got a phone call from Ross" he continued in a quieter voice "saying that you were in fucking hospital in a coma after a cocaine overdose, I genuinely thought that I was going to lose you forever and I was so scared Matty, so so scared. I have never experienced fear like that in my life." George couldn't meet his eyes as he made the confession, almost as if it was something that he was ashamed to admit. Matty didn't know what to say, he didn't think that George had cared that much about him anymore after all the atrocities he shouted at him on that night.

"I-I didn't think you cared that much. I pretty much deserved it anyway after how much of an arse I had been" Matty mumbled in response, voicing his thoughts aloud.

"Of course I fucking care Matty, do you think we would have gotten into that argument if I wasn't worried that you were going to kill yourself if you carried on with the drugs, which you nearly fucking did after that incident." He took amount to breathe and compose himself before continuing. "Mate, you have been my best friend for _years_ and I don't think even an argument of that calibre could change that fact" he finally said with a slightly lighter tone in his voice. Matty didn't realise he was holding his breath until he released it with a sigh of relief.

Up until that point, it had mostly been George doing the talking, Matty not being able to get chance to explain himself as George finally let out his feelings, but now that he had finally gotten the opportunity he couldn't think of the right words to say, which was probably a first for him.

He was usually very eloquent with his words; in any other situation he probably would have come out with some long pretentious paragraph including a long winded metaphor in order to convey his point, but this was George he was talking to and he had never bothered with the niceties when it came to them. They had always just been Matty and George, almost always referred to as one singular thing, so to be considered separately wasn't only new to them but also to everyone else they knew. The sooner they sorted this out the sooner things could go back to normal again. It wasn't just affecting them but everyone around them and the longer they left it the worse it would become.

"Some of the things I said that night were inexcusable and I know that. Half of them were downright lies if I'm going to be quite honest. Nothing I can say right now, or ever say really, will be able to convey is fucking sorry I am, George. You honestly mean the world to me and without you I can almost guarantee that I would have been fucking dead right now, and not just from that night but from other times before where over and over you have stopped me from doing stupid shit that probably would have killed me far sooner. I guess you kinda saved my life in that respect so I should probably thank you for that."

The two exchanged weak smiles and despite the fact there was so much left over that needed to be sorted out, it wasn't really important because things were okay between them and in the end that was all that really mattered.


End file.
